Would You Like a Chocolate?
by IceraMyst
Summary: People are not who they seem... and senses always lie. Another of my 'who is is' fics... Is it Duo? Heero? Trowa? Hilde? You tell me. ?+? Musical accompaniment by Portishead.


*~ Read, and enjoy. And sorry about the stupid formatting. ~*

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I'm fooling somebody

A faithless path to roam

Deceiving to breathe this secretly

This silence, a silence I can't bear

There was a light on in _his_ window, but why, how, was unexplained. The room was empty… there was no one to remain, to spark such a light. Of course a feeling was left, his presence was too big to truly disappear… always remaining… just out of reach…

Here I could watch, undisturbed, destitute. I was alone… but no, he was always beside me. At the moment, he was curled up on the sofa, quiet… why, I don't know. Sometimes he was, sometimes he wasn't. He seldom spoke now, of course. His skin was so pale, but that brief smile so bright; it illuminated all the rest. 

It's been five years since his death. The others haven't gotten over it, truly. Only I was able to stand firm, pull them through. Even now I remain strengthened by it. Of course, having him around helps… it's easier to live that way. 

"Would you like a chocolate?" His voice cut through my thoughts, breaking my concentration.

I turned him down. I never really liked chocolate much, anyway. Dark, white, creamy or nutty, much like him. Mixture, fusion, wound up in the presence that would grace our lives no longer.

"If you're sure."

  
_Wandering stars, for whom it is reserved_

The blackness of darkness forever

Wandering stars, for whom it is reserved

The blackness of darkness forever

A shadow moved in front of that light, and I frowned. Nothing should drown it out, the light was sacred; he had gone there. He must have. There was no other place for him, my devil, my savior. I turned towards him, watching.

"What book are you reading?"

I showed him the cover. Anne Rice. I couldn't stand her writings, couldn't stand how impossible things happened, but there was nothing else to read. And some of her characters reminded me of him, somehow. It's good to remember him… it's so easy to forget the dead.

"I liked that one."

Yes, she was a good author. I had always admired the plots and twists. I put the book down and caught the ball he had just thrown at me. It was blue, rough to the touch, probably a basketball. They felt like this. I could feel the air spinning inside, twisting, striving to escape, a prisoner. He used to like this sport. I wish I could see him play again. I threw it back.

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Refuse to surrender

Strung out until ripped apart

Who dares, dares to condemn

All for nothing 

The light was unburdened now and I could see it clearly. How dare someone move through that room, touching his things… many of them were still there. We couldn't throw them away; it would have been unbearable, as was the thought of someone handling them, someone that wouldn't appreciate their worth. I should go and force away the intruder, but that would mean leaving his side, and I didn't want to do that. He would get bored and consume everything in my pantry like the wild beast he was. It was a shame, but I didn't mind. The chocolate bars there used to be his favorite. I always bought them for him. The empty box stood in my pantry still, waiting for the day when I would refill it again. Maybe I would start eating them in tribute to him, and I could hear his laughter at such a thought. Outrageous. To think I would do such a thing… impossible. It would just become a passing fancy; don't obsess with the dead.

I had to stop her from going through his things. She wanted them. I told her she couldn't have them- he would get mad when he came home.

"If you won't eat the chocolate, at least eat something. You'll go to waste."

I agreed to a carrot stick. It was real, substantial. I could handle it. It was so vibrant against his pale skin. I told him he should eat too, something other than chocolate, or he was going to fade away. He did for a moment, just to scare me. And he laughed. I expressed by displeasure at this and he mearly smiled.

"I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

I told him that he had better not.

  
_I'm lost, exposed_

Stranger things will come your way

Its just I'm scared

Got hurt along time ago

I can't make myself heard no matter how hard I scream

The light flickered again. It's too bad that window is open… it must be blowing the candle around. He's very fond of candles. I never understood why. They seemed insignificant… until now… that's he's gone. Now I wonder why I never told him, told him anything important. It was just the insubstantiality of the aura around here that was so disorienting. 

I realized he was crying, and I made comforting noises, worried. I didn't like the black he was wearing. Why wasn't he happy? I wanted him to be.

"I can't believe he's gone… it was so sudden… why? Why?" He was sobbing now. I tried to get him to stop.

The others didn't comfort him, merely stood outside the room, watching through the one-way mirror, sorrow on their faces. Five years, one of them said. Five years and he still treats it as it was yesterday… he was so shattered when…. I hate to see him here… but it's for the best.

I ignored them and patted his back comfortingly and told him not to cry. He nodded, stopping, and threw me the ball again. I caught it, then remembered, and tossed it back gently. I told him that I needed to go now. I had to get that stranger out of his bedroom.

"Alright. Come back soon."

And then it was time. I tried to reach out to him, but they took my arms and led me away, back to my cell, my prison, my burden. They were sad, with their graceful wings and dainty steps. I asked where we were going. Into the light, they replied.

And then the light turned off.

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For its such a lovely day

To have to always feel this way

And the time that I will suffer less

Is when I never have to wake

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It's meant to be as confusing as it sounds- who is dead? Who's alive? Who are they, anyway? If you figure it out, you can have a cookie. I think it can be anyone, really… it started out being Duo thinking about Heero, because Duo would be such a perfect person to have go insane, but then, Quatre already went insane once… maybe it's him? The thinker uses words Heero would use, but maybe Trowa would act the same… I'm thinking maybe it's Heero thinking about Duo. How about you? 

I don't own Gundam the last time I checked, and I doubt my mom bought me it for the holidays. I'm pretty sure Anne Rice isn't copyright, but if she is, I don't own her either. Lyrics are by various Portishead songs from Dummy. Advertisement: buy the CD, or at least listen to it. Don't forget to tell me what you think. Please J 


End file.
